


Interesting Night

by Ryuki



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Gen, Hair Pulling, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 18:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12688059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuki/pseuds/Ryuki
Summary: The apprentice, Avielle, decides to brave Lucio’s “abandoned” wing, seeking answers. To Lucio’s farmyard state, to the murder, to... well, anything that’ll satisfy her curiosity. Sometimes, the journey for answers gives you more questions, though.





	Interesting Night

Avielle settled herself on the floor of the hall, picnic basket beside her and a book in hand. The chill of Lucio’s wing fluttered over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The apprentice doubted she’d have to wait long, before the ghost – or demon? - showed its horns. Using the light of her lantern, Avielle began to read.

She was barely two minutes into the prologue, when the temperature drastically dropped. Avielle ignored it. _Tunk tunk tunk_ , the sound of hooves reverberated along the marble. Stilling her heart, Avielle reached into the basket for an apple. Sinking her teeth into the fruit, the crunch drowned out the approaching steps.

Avielle continued to eat and read, ignoring the approaching white figure. The creature loomed before her, silently. Positioned just at her peripheral, probably on purpose, Avielle could barely see the white fur from the corner of her gaze. Perhaps he debated on plucking the book from her grasp – could he even do that? - or frightening her with a sudden gale. Either way, Avielle continued reading and braced herself.

The hallway darkened. The lantern light flickered. Dust and ash churned in the air. An unworldly gust roiled down over the apprentice. However, she did not move. Irritation dotted Lucio’s thoughts. Surely, she noticed the haunting!

Finally, annoyed with  _his_  awkward silence, he reached out to her mind, “ _What are you doing here?_ ”

The apprentice barely deigned him with a look. Her dark brown eyes flicked from the pages, trailing up to his goat face. With a bored sigh, Avielle replied, “Oh, hello, Lucio.”

Then her eyes were back to that  _damned_ book.

“ _I_ asked _you what you are doing here, Avielle.”_ The goat creature repeated, using her name for emphasis.

“Reading.” She turned another page, half-eaten apple in hand.

Lucio bristled, stalking around Avielle. “ _I see that._ ”

“Then why did you ask?” The apprentice coaxed unease out of her shoulders as the goat man circled her. Lucio couldn’t hurt her. Well, that’s what Avielle hoped, at least. All the other interactions she had with him, he could have harmed her. Stumbling into his wing for the first time, he had certainly shook her. His antics around Nadia and Asra were also… disquieting. But he hadn’t them. As far as Avielle knew, at least.

Maybe the attention was the only thing keeping him from lashing out, though.

Her tone wasn’t petulant or nasty. Light and curious, with the edge of exasperation. Oh, it was a tone he had heard before from her. A flare of annoyance burst through him. How  _dare_  she… she  _sass_  him!

His hand shot out, grabbing Avielle by the back of the neck with long, furry fingers. The woman tensed, dropping the book from her knee as a sharp gasp left her lips.

“ _Ah, you didn’t think I could touch you, hm?_ ” Lucio tightened his grip on Avielle’s neck.

“I… hn,” Avielle jolted as Lucio gave a rough squeeze, “I considered this possibility.”

“ _Did you now?_ ” The question slicked over Avielle’s thoughts, almost sensually. She hid her cringe. Lucio might take it as an invitation.

“Yes.” Avielle reached a hand up, slowly. Her fingers quested for the arm that held her. Lucio didn’t move as her fingertips skimmed through the fur on his arm. It had been so long, since he’d been touched…

Sharp pain bit across his arm. He yanked his hand away from Avielle, who stood upon her release, snarling, “ _Fuck! What was that for?”_

“Curiosity.” The apprentice turned to her basket, fishing out a notebook and pen. She jotted the observation down, her gaze flicking to the silently seething goatman. Her eyes flickered up and down his body, lingering on his furry groin area, before asking, “Would you prefer I pull your fur, elsewhere?”

“…s _adistic bitch._ ”

“That’s what I thought.” Avielle nodded, tamping down her grin. She glanced over her notes, compiled over the last couple nights. Interviewing servants, courtiers, Asra, and Nadia had given her little insight to Lucio’s ghost. They avoided him and his haunts.

Though, from the occasional run-in with him, Avielle had scribbled down short notes. At times, the man – er, goat demon? - was corporeal, other times he was a phantasm that seemed to morph in and out of reality. Obviously, at the moment, he was physical enough to touch and feel pain. Such a fascinating dynamic. What  _happened_ to him?

Her gaze flickered over to Lucio, his red eyes leered at her with wary irritation. Well, she hadn’t invoked his utter wrath. Narrowing her eyes, Avielle looked over his body, again. Well, he seemed to be cooperative, to a degree. He hadn’t phased out of existence, at least. Drawing her gaze back to Lucio’s red, red eyes, Avielle tilted her head. “Do you remember what happened the night you… died?”

“ _Died?_ ” The demon tossed its head back, bleating out a sharp laugh. The lantern light glinted off his teeth, some much sharper than what was found in a regular goat’s mouth. When his gaze fell back to Avielle, it burned with a strange smugness. “ _Don’t you remember, Avielle?_  You _did this._ ”

He motioned to himself with one arm, sweeping in the hairy behemoth he had become. The apprentice swallowed down shock.

“I-I don’t.” Avielle stared at Lucio, raking her brains for some memory – some slippery strand – of this accusation. This had to be a lie. She could never morph someone into… this.

The goat man pattered closer, wrapping his one good arm around Avielle’s shoulders. The apprentice stifled a shudder, especially as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She ignored the chill that settled over her, eyes glued to Lucio’s goat face.

“ _Let me paint a picture for you, then._ ” The words shimmered in Avielle’s mind, full of cruel glee and superior knowing. Around them, darkness blotted out the hall. “ _I came to you, red-eyed and weary. That idiot of a doctor wouldn’t stop trying asinine, country bumpkin cures_ _and that lazy magician had his ass planted on pillows all day._ ”

The setting shifted, melting into a foreign room Avielle felt at home in. It was a bedroom, with a luxurious bed and a beautifully carved wardrobe. A cauldron squatted in the dying embers of the fireplace, an orange liquid rippling inside it. The view overlooked a nighttime Vesuvia, the sky speckled with stars. Bookshelves lined one wall, a work table – not unlike the one at the shoppe – lined the other.

And there was Avielle, sitting on the bed and watching a much more human Count Lucio pace the length of the room. The apprentice nearly jolted from goat Lucio’s hold, utter shock pricking across her thoughts. She looked a few years younger, with shorter hair and dark circles under her eyes. In fact, if Avielle didn’t know better, she would have guessed Lucio had awoken her from sleep.

“Avielle, this plague eats away at me.” The man growled, hands clasped behind his back. There was a sickly pallor to his skin, unlike his paintings. “As a trusted witch among my counsel, I have a request of utmost importance.”

“Yes, Count Lucio?” Avielle sighed, rubbing at her eyes with a palm. The expression on her face made it clear that the Count had asked a request of her more than once.

He suddenly turned toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders. His intense gaze bore down into her face as he simply stated, “Kill me.”

“M’lord?” Avielle’s eyes widened, sincerely shocked at the request. She leaned away from him, nearly jerking out of the Count’s grasp.

“I’m not going to wither away in my bed, like a decrepit old man.” Lucio released Avielle, returning to pacing. His golden hand clenched into a fist as he raised it to chin height. “I wish to go out with a fight. However, I’ve already defeated all my enemies.”

Avielle pursed her lips as a broad, self-assured grin crossed Lucio’s lips. An edge filtered into her tone. “Enemies come in many forms, sir.”

“The courtiers are stupid, spineless fucks,” he spat, not even turning to look at the witch. He missed the slight grin that twitched at Avielle’s lips, before she masked it again.

She sighed, not remotely concerned with the Count’s informal language. “The magician? The plague doctor? Fairly competent people.”

That seemed to get through to him. He stopped pacing, eyes narrowing.

“Good point.” The Count brought a claw to his lip, a sudden look of introspection crossing his features. However, even when looking inwards, Lucio had to speak aloud. “Are they delaying research? Have they found the cure? Do they wish to see their illustrious Count  _die_?”

Avielle could scent bloodthirst on Lucio’s mind, even through this mirage or memory. He stood across the room from her past self, flexing his golden claw in thought. Murder glinted in his eyes.

“M’lord, I might have an answer…” Apprehension stiffened along Avielle’s body as she pushed off the bed, striding across the room to her work desk. There, she picked up a tattered tome. Black with underscores of red and a shadowy aura, the book oozed old and dark magic. She approached Count Lucio, biting her bottom lip, as he spun to face her. “I may be able to give you a different form. A form free of plague. It’s a complicated spell, though, and I… I don’t know what repercussions it’ll have. Yet.”

Curiosity piqued, the Count tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. “What sort of form?”

Avielle flipped the book open to a bookmark. She turned it toward him and the man eyed the page, scanning the words with an intense frown. His gaze flickered up to her. “You really believe you can do this, Avi?”

She nodded, though a sense of grimness pinched between her brows. Lucio considered her face for a moment, then glanced back down at the open book. Finally, a smile broke across the Count’s features as he, yet again, grabbed Avielle by the shoulders. “Perfect. Make whatever preparations you need.”

“There is one other issue,” she raised an index finger to the man’s face.

A slightly colder glint caught Lucio’s eye. “Yes?”

“This spell needs a full moon,” Avielle pointed to something in the book. She visibly winced, as she added, “The next one will be on your birthday.”

“Well,” Lucio stared down at the open page again. His eyes traced the spell, the illustrations, everything. He leaned closer to Avielle, his face dangerously close to hers as he smirked, “It can be your present to me, then.”

The scene shimmered, before liquefying before Avielle’s very eyes. She watched, stunned by shock, as her past self and Lucio drew together. Whether it was a kiss or the memory disintegrating, she wasn’t sure. Her stomach lurched as questions and thoughts piled up in her head. Did she and Lucio…?

“ _Such an… interesting night_.” The words trickled into Avielle’s mind, like a sticky sap, shaking her from her stupor. A chill in the air, joined with dust and ash, finally seeped into her senses. The apprentice realized she had a death grip on her notebook, holding it to her chest. When she realized Lucio still stood with an arm around her shoulders, the apprentice wrenched from his grip.

She couldn’t deal with his touch, right now. A flash of annoyance and anger crested her confusion. “Why do you  _always_  do that?”

The words rang out in the hallway, echoing back at Avielle. A hand flew to her lips, realizing what she had said, just as the pain of memories broke into her thoughts. Bits and pieces faded into her thoughts. Memories she wasn’t ready to deal with. Her chest rose and fell, with speedy breaths, as Avielle fought for control over her mind.

“ _Always do what, Avi?_ ” It was a snickering challenge, ringing in her head. Oh, yes, remember what I always do. Face your past. Our past.  _Avi_.

The question reverberated back to Avielle. What  _did_  he always do? Her heart thrummed in her chest, fingers tightening on her notebook. Her lungs wouldn’t work, her breathing too fast or not enough. She took a step back from him, trying to organize her thoughts and feelings. Confused tears bit at the back of her eyes.

She couldn’t remember, couldn’t fight the pain blasting at her temples. Annoyed, unable to retain her unflappable distance, Avielle found herself snapping, “You always make an ass of yourself, Lucio.”

The apprentice could almost feel the grin. A pompous curve across lips that weren’t there. Lucio resonated with self-satisfied smugness. “ _Technically,_ you _made_ me _a goat._ ”

Pain pounded against Avielle’s skull as memories faded in and out of her thoughts. She couldn’t do this any longer, especially with that conceited tone resonating in her head. She stormed over to the picnic basket, slamming her book into it. Hefting the lantern in hand, and cradling the basket in the crook of her arm, Avielle stormed out of Lucio’s not-so-abandoned wing.

Lucio reached out to her mind, his snickers reverberating in her head until she reached the main palace. With a churning stomach, Avielle almost wished she hadn’t gone to his wing. She had ended up with more questions than answers.


End file.
